


As Long As It Matters

by coffeewordangel



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Stealth dating, temporary roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeewordangel/pseuds/coffeewordangel
Summary: Frank has one rule: he doesn't fuck his friends.





	As Long As It Matters

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the nightmare_xmas fic exchange over on LJ for 2008, I believe. Maybe 2007?

Frank has moments upon awakening, before self-awareness creeps in and sweeps the lingering tendrils of dreams from his memory, when he forgets he belongs to his life. He is anyone for a brief moment in time; someone without eight am classes or a shitty job at the campus coffee shop.

It’s not that Frank dislikes his life. He has great friends and he only has three semesters left before graduation - something that fills him with a sort of elated dread. Graduation means an end to freedom, an end to the easy slide from day to day without much responsibility. He’s excited and scared and not entirely sure he’s ready to be an adult.

This particular morning he stares at the ceiling blurrily before realizing that he only has three hours to pack his stuff and exit the dorm before they lock everything down for the holiday. He expects the RA to knock on his door at any moment and is kind of surprised it hasn’t happened yet. He’s planned on staying with Gerard for the duration, something that twists his stomach into not entirely unpleasant knots. His parents are taking a long-planned-for cruise to the Caribbean and, while he’s happy for them, he’s also an only child and selfishly still wants Christmases to revolve around him. 

“Iero!” His RA pounds on the door. “Get your ass moving. Some of us want to get the hell out of here.”

Frank groans and slides out of bed. His roommate left two days ago, immediately after his last final, and the dorm has felt strangely empty ever since. The silence is stifling after weeks of buoyant noise and pre-finals nerves. The building seems creepy, like it has fallen into an uneasy slumber since the mass exodus of its inhabitants. Frank shakes off the morbid turn his thoughts have taken and begins stuffing things into his duffel bag. He figures if he plans it right he has time for coffee and a much-needed smoke before he catches the bus to Gerard’s apartment.

He’s only known Gerard since the beginning of the semester. They met at a party at Bob and Ray’s and Frank has the sneaking suspicion that the pair had plotted for them to hook up. It didn’t exactly happen that way. By the time Frank realized that he was insanely attracted to Gerard, it was too late. They’d already become friends, and Frank has one hard and fast rule: you don’t fuck your friends, literally or figuratively. He’s never regretted his own twisted brand of ethics so much before. Still, some days it feels like he has known Gerard his entire life, and he wouldn’t trade the easy camaraderie for a fuck any day. Dating fucks things up and he figures people like Bob and Ray are the exception rather than the rule.

Cold bites at his fingertips and makes his nose run a little as he waits for the bus. He switches his coffee from hand to hand in order to thaw them. The sky is gray and oppressive and he is reminded of how much he hates winter. It’s too cold to snow, too cold to do anything except trap pollutants over the city in a haze. The bus sputters and squeals to a stop in front of him and he nearly fumbles his change with numb fingers before dropping it into the till. He gratefully sinks into a seat and closes his eyes and half-listens to the mad mumbling of the man behind him.

\---

Gerard’s apartment is in a bad part of town. The rent is dirt cheap, but Frank isn’t sure it’s a decent trade off. He’s always a little worried that the meth lab downstairs is going to blow up the building or a stray bullet will find its way to Gerard’s flesh. Gerard doesn’t seem to worry about these things, though, and laughs whenever Frank rants about them.

Frank nervously shifts from one foot to the other and stifles the need to glance over his shoulder while waiting for Gerard to open the door. He can hear rustling and soft footsteps through the paper-thin walls. Gerard’s hair is plastered to his head when he finally swings the door open and there are pillow creases on his cheek. Frank fights not to find this painfully endearing.

“Hey,” he greets easily, though his stomach is threatening to rebel and reject the coffee that sits restlessly at its bottom. “Got room for a homeless college student?”

Gerard’s lazy grin warms Frank to his bones and he waves him in. “Always.”

It’s awkward for a moment as Frank walks into the apartment and realizes that it’s just going to be him and Gerard for two weeks, rattling around in the tiny space. Already he’s half-regretting accepting the offer. Then Gerard hugs him and drags him to the kitchen and presses a steaming mug of coffee into his hands.

“Are you hungry? I can make…toast.”

Frank laughs. “Toast, huh? How can I pass up an offer to sample your culinary expertise?” 

Gerard flushes a little and makes a futile attempt to straighten his hair. “Well, I just got up. We could order something in if you want. I don’t really cook. Cheese toast is kind of the extent of my skills. I might have cereal. But I think the milk is probably on its way to becoming a science experiment by now.”

“Relax. I don’t really expect you to wait on me or anything. I’m already invading your space.”

“Shut up,” Gerard orders. “I wouldn’t have offered if it was a problem. Now, toast?”

“Yes sir.” Frank mock salutes and takes a seat in the only chair that isn’t piled with mail or books. “Toast would be excellent.”

Gerard ends up burning the toast and they decide to order Chinese instead. They pile onto the sagging couch with their take-out boxes and chopsticks and Frank updates Gerard on the difficulty of taking a final while hung over from the end-of-semester party the night before. 

“How do you think you did?” Gerard asks while wrestling with the baffling task of eating chow mein with chopsticks.

Frank shrugs. “Alright. I’m pretty sure I passed everything. I’m kind of at that point where I’m so tired I just don’t care. I’ll start freaking out next week I’m sure.”

“Good plan.” Gerard nods approvingly. “Christmas Break is for lazing about and forgetting everything you learned the previous semester.”

“Oh, is that how it worked back in your day? When you had to travel to school uphill both ways in the snow?” Frank teases.

Gerard throws a piece of baby corn at his head.

\---

“So we’re expected at Bob and Ray’s for Christmas,” Gerard announces while shoving work-related papers into his bag. “Apparently Ray is cooking. Pray he doesn’t poison us all.”

It’s always BobandRay, like they’re one entity. Frank wonders sometimes what it would be like to be one half of a matched set. He’s had plenty of shitty boyfriends, has been one himself a few times, but he’s never been part of a couple, not really. He thinks he’s doing something wrong, but he’s not sure what. Probably he just has horrible taste in men.

“I look forward to the resulting e. coli poisoning. We can sing Christmas carols in the ER between bouts of throwing up,” Frank replies cheerily.

“It’s not funny if it’s true,” Gerard predicts darkly.

Frank laughs. “No, that’s _why_ it’s funny.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “I’ll be home around five. I might even remember to bring food.”

“This is why your mom never let you have pets when you were little, isn’t it? Never fed them, never played with them. Just left them to their own devices till they started eating their own extremities in desperation.”

“Exactly.” Gerard snorts. “Although none of them were as delightful as you. If you’re good I might even bring home a collar and leash and take you for a walk.”

Frank’s skin tightens at that, trembles a little. He swallows and chokes out a laugh. “Careful. I bite.”

Gerard’s gaze darkens for a moment, the air charged between them like static electricity. Then he smirks. “Bad dog. No biscuit.”

“You’re going to be late for work,” Frank observes calmly, voice belying the wild fluttering of his pulse. 

Gerard glances at the clock. “Shit. I’ve gotta go. Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try to behave myself,” Frank promises with a smile.

He exhales a sigh as the door slams closed and sinks bonelessly to the couch. This has become routine, the daily flirtation, the sly glances and innuendo. He thinks it’s going to kill him eventually. Sooner rather than later, probably. Frank flirts with everyone, it’s just part of his nature, from the cute bagger at the supermarket to his grandma’s bridge partner. This, though, this feels less like flirtation and more like extended foreplay and he’d be lying to himself if he said the thought of that didn’t terrify him just a little.

Frank stares up at the ceiling in self pity for a while and tries to ignore the way his brain wants to spin elaborate sexual fantasies revolving around Gerard. Eventually he gives it up as a bad job and resigns himself to jerking off in the shower and then feeling vaguely guilty about it later. Neither activity is particularly productive, but it fills up part of his Gerard-less day and leaves him with less time to mope around.

\---

“Honey! I’m home!” Gerard calls, voice echoing through the small apartment.

Frank bites back a laugh. The thing is that Gerard is utterly dorky, pretty much full time. Part of it is on purpose, an affectation of sorts, but the rest of it is pure Gerard, like somehow he never outgrew being the pudgy kid who relied on humor to get people to like him. Unfortunately Frank finds it stupidly hot beyond all reason or rationale. He’s tried telling himself over and over again that cheesy jokes are not hot and neither is geeking out over comics or singing in the shower. None of the lectures have helped one iota. Gerard bouncing around the kitchen and humming to himself is always going to be adorable and will probably always make Frank want to pin him to a wall and ravish him. 

“Did you bring food?” Frank calls back. “I’m not moving unless you brought food. In fact, I don’t think I’m moving at all. You can just bring the food here. Hell, you can feed it to me. I think I’m going to see how long it takes my muscles to atrophy and moving would ruin the experiment.”

Gerard stops in the doorway and leans against it, hip cocked. “Lazy ass,” he greets affectionately. “I slave at my desk all day long to afford food for you and then you expect me to wait on you too? Ungrateful, that’s what you are.”

There’s a sliver of skin peeking out between Gerard’s shirt and the waistband of his jeans and Frank has to physically tear his gaze away from it. He forces a smirk. “I am an ungrateful wretch,” he agrees. “Disrespectful, too. A disgrace to my entire lineage.”

“All those thieves and brigands shaking their non-corporeal heads in disappointment. How can you live with yourself?”

“And pirates,” Frank adds. “I’m sure there were pirates in there somewhere.”

“And ninjas. Pirate ninjas.” Gerard nods solemnly. 

“Pirate ninja wizards,” Frank adds. They stare at each other and then grin like children. For a moment Frank forgets about the constant need pooling at the base of his spine and enjoys just being with Gerard. 

“I got Indian. That thing with the peas and potatoes for you. Extra hot because you’re a freak with an esophagus made of steel.”

“Pirate ninja wizard robots,” Frank replies. “Made of magic and spare parts. Now gimme. I’m starving.”

“Living room. I rented _From Dusk Till Dawn_. Figured we’d make a night of it.”

Frank frowns. “Don’t you own that already?”

“Mikey stole it. And then pretended he had no idea what I was talking about and had never heard of such a movie. He’s a filthy thief. And a liar. You two should meet.” 

“I’m sure we’d get along fabulously. Between all the lying and stealing.” Frank pauses and tilts his head. “Actually that sounds a lot like my last relationship.”

A frown flits over Gerard’s features and then is gone so quickly Frank isn’t entirely sure it was there at all. “Get your cute ass to the living room or I’m eating everything myself.”

“Empty threats,” Frank dismisses. “Benefit of a steel esophagus: no one steals your food.”

They curl up on the couch, gravitating toward the center because it’s ancient and dips in the middle. Frank fits against Gerard’s side like he was built for it, angles and curves lining up like puzzle pieces. It’s comfortable and not at the same time. He’s close enough to smell the faded traces of Gerard’s cologne and feel the warm rasp of stubble against his cheek. Frank ignores the twist in his stomach and tries to breathe evenly.

\---

When Frank’s control finally breaks, he’s completely sober and aware enough to realize this is probably a really bad idea. That’s not enough to unclench his fists from Gerard’s shirt or to keep him from angling his head to deepen the kiss. Gerard’s hands are warm against the small of his back and Frank suddenly, desperately, wants more.

Gerard doesn’t ask if he’s sure, for which Frank is grateful. He hates that question. He’s capable of making his own decisions, for better or worse, and Gerard is fully capable of saying no. He does not say no. Doesn’t, in fact, say much of anything besides a breathy “ohgod” when Frank finally succeeds in getting them naked and onto the bed.

For as easily distracted as Gerard can be, in bed he is intensity incarnate. Frank has slept with a fair share of people and, while none of them were horrible, there always seemed to be a selfishness on both sides. Gerard appears to be content to focus on Frank, to explore with maddening patience every joint and hollow in order to discover what makes Frank squirm and writhe. 

“Wait,” Frank gasps. Gerard stops short and looks up at him. Something like fear shadows his face. “I think I got us naked so _I_ could touch _you_. You‘re messing up my plan.”

Gerard laughs. “There was a plan? And it involved attacking me in the hallway with your mouth? I thought you were just trying to shut me up.”

Frank can hardly remember what they were talking about. Possibly original horror movies versus remakes and what constitutes a decent one. Whatever the topic was, it had Gerard gesturing with his hands and rambling and Frank just hadn’t been able to take it anymore. “Lie down,” he orders, a little more petulant than authoritative. 

“Okay.” Gerard acquiesces with easy grace before raising an eyebrow expectantly.

It’s been a while since Frank’s slept with anyone. Since August, at least. Around the same time he met Gerard. Which is surely a coincidence. It’s not like he’s been hanging around saving himself for Gerard or anything. He’s just been busy. And pickier than usual, he has to admit. Still, he remembers how to give a blowjob. It’s not really one of those things you forget how to do.

Frank thinks he might be a little obsessed with the curve of Gerard’s hipbone, the crease of pale skin connecting leg and groin. Gerard is pale all over, soft and smooth, and Frank wants to mark him; teeth marks and bruises to show he was here. The possessiveness takes him by surprise. When he looks at Gerard spread over the mattress there’s a tiny voice at the basest part of his brain, his selfish Id, that declares ownership in a primal chant of “minemineminemine”. It’s slightly horrifying, but Frank isn’t sure the intent is a lie.

Gerard drags Frank off his cock long before Frank is finished with him and Frank is hard pressed not to whine. He chooses instead to pout a little in what he hopes is an irresistible manner. Gerard seems to be more amused than aroused if the smirk is any indication. He pats Frank’s head and then pins him to the mattress. 

“What are you…” Frank trails off when Gerard produces a condom and lube. “Oh.”

“Yeah?” There’s a nervous lilt in Gerard’s voice.

Frank swallows and then nods. This is what he wants, after all. What he’s wanted for weeks. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely.

Gerard maintains eye contact until Frank wants to look away just to be able to breathe again. His skin is burning and he thinks he might die from wanting so badly. It’s never been like this before. Sex is supposed to be fun. This isn’t exactly fun. This is more like being killed and begging for more. Pleasurable, but so much so that it hurts his chest. Frank licks his lips, throat dry, and watches wide-eyed as Gerard places a knee on either side of his hips and slowly lowers himself onto Frank’s cock.

“Fuck,” Frank whispers almost reverently, reaching out to curl his hands over Gerard’s hips. He arches up a little and Gerard groans deep in his throat.

For as much as he’s wanted this, imagined it in feverish detail, the pace they set is leisurely instead of frantic. It’s a slow roll of hips, so good he can’t stand it. Frank has never been particularly vocal during sex, but he finds himself babbling something he’s not even sure is English in his desire for more, just a little more, right there please. A twist of Frank’s wrist and Gerard comes first, head tilted back exposing the lovely line of his throat. Frank follows soon after, pleasure overshadowing any thought or rationale attempting to form in his head.

Frank presses a kiss under Gerard’s chin, sweat burning against his chapped lips. He expects the urge to apologize, to blush and find excuses to leave. It doesn’t come. Instead he just wants to lie there and listen to Gerard breathe and wait for his muscles to come back under his control.

\---

Frank waits for the awkwardness to start, for Gerard to stop talking to him, for _something_. Instead, what happens is this: they have a lot of sex. All the time. Against every flat surface in the apartment and some that aren‘t so flat, although that‘s hell on the spine. It’s crazy good, possibly the best sex Frank’s ever had. The strange part is that nothing else has changed. They banter and laugh and possibly have the dorkiest after-sex conversations in the history of the known universe, but it’s the same. Only better.

“Are you going to freak out over this?” Frank finally breaks down and asks.

Gerard looks at him like he’s sprouted another head. “Over what?”

“This. Us. Sex. Thing.” 

“My, you’re articulate this morning.” Gerard snorts and takes a sip of his coffee. “But, no. I’m not going to freak out. It seemed the logical next step.”

Frank frowns at him and tries to figure out what he means. It doesn’t seem logical to Frank at all. Somehow he never figured spending every spare second with Gerard would result in sex. Maybe he should have, but it’s not like they’re alone all the time. They go out. They have dinner and go to movies and parties and. The revelation hits him upside the head.

“How long have we been dating without my knowledge?”

Gerard laughs at him. “I don’t really think it’s dating if one of you is commitment-phobic and hasn‘t agreed to a relationship. I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t notice, though. You‘re kind of hot when you‘re oblivious.”

Frank flushes. “That’s kind of what this is though, right? I mean. You’re not seeing anyone else?”

“No. No one else.” Gerard calmly waits for Frank to process everything.

Frank should be freaking out. That‘s what he does. Strangely, he doesn‘t feel like freaking out even a little bit. In fact, he can’t remember ever feeling so calm. “Do we have to tell Bob and Ray? They’re going to be smug about this for the rest of our lives.”

“Not if Ray kills us all with his death-ridden green beans and tofurkey first,” Gerard replies grimly.

“He’s not going to kill us.”

Gerard eyes him speculatively. “Want to go fuck one more time just in case it’s our last day on earth?”

Frank grins. “Can we do it in the shower? We need to multi-task a little if we’re going to make it there by noon.”


End file.
